


Five Ways Casey Shraeger Surprised Davis Nixon

by baseballchica03



Category: The Unusuals
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baseballchica03/pseuds/baseballchica03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey Shraeger is a constant stream of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Ways Casey Shraeger Surprised Davis Nixon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Addison R (beyond_belief)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/gifts).



> The dialogue in section II comes directly from 01x03, One Man Band.

**I.**  
The first time Davis was supposed to meet Casey Shraeger, she never showed. 

It was his first big account on his own, managing money for the newly of-age daughter of one of the richest men in New York, so of course he’d done his homework. He’d read her financial documents so many times in preparation for their meeting that he could probably recite them from memory. He’d also pumped his coworker who’d handled Casey’s trust fund when she was a minor for any information he had, which turned out to be a useless exercise. He scoured Page Six for mentions of her, folding the Post under pages of the Times so that none of his colleagues would see him reading it. 

Armed with all of this information, Davis waited patiently to actually meet her. And waited. And waited. After an hour of being startled any time someone walked down the hallway outside his office, he gave up on her ever showing up. It happened again a few days later. How was he ever supposed to prove himself if his client wouldn’t let him actually do anything? 

At precisely 3:00 the following Monday afternoon, the door to his office swung open, slamming into the wall behind it with a thwack. In walked Casey, all black eyeliner and attitude. “You called my _dad_?” She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. 

God, she was even more beautiful in person than the grainy picture he’d found in the back pages of a People Magazine let on. He stood up and held out his arm for a handshake. “Ms. Shraeger? I’m Davis Nixon.”

“Casey,” she corrected, keeping her arms crossed tightly. “I know who you are, stupid. Your name’s on the door. You _called my dad_.”

“You stood me up.”

“What is this, a date?”

Davis blushed. Shit. This was not how he imagined this going. “NO! I just meant, you didn’t come to our meetings or answer my calls.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “And that didn’t give you any hints?”

“Don’t you want your money? You have to do _something_ with it.”

She took a step toward his desk. “Let’s be clear. I have no interest in my father’s money. Less than no interest. Let it sit there, do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it.” 

“But.. I –“ Casey raised her eyebrows at him. “Um, okay?”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” 

She turned around, auburn ponytail swinging behind. Davis watched her leave, her cropped rugby shirt not quite long enough to hide the incredibly low rise of her jeans. The last thing he heard before the door slammed closed again was Casey’s admonishment, “And stop checking out my ass!”

 **II.**  
What was more surprising than the fact that Casey greeted him with handcuffs was how much Davis enjoyed it. But the momentary rush of excitement gave way to panic when he realized what she was saying. 

“I’m arresting you for felony accessory to hit and run.” 

“Hit and run? What? Wait a minute!” Oh, shit. “I had no idea that Mark Stamwood was involved in a hit and run.”

“Nice try! Where is he?” 

“I have no idea. I swear. Case, I swear!” It was becoming clear to him that he was going to have to tell her the truth. “Look, I didn’t know that he was involved with this when I asked you to help him.”

“Oh, he just forgot to tell you when he called?” 

“He didn’t call me….” As the words left his lips, Davis knew this was it. The minute he finished his sentence, any chance he had of ever kissing Casey – for real, at least – would vanish. How could he have possibly thought this was a good idea? 

Of course he knew how Casey felt about her parents, her father especially. But when Walter had called him, it seemed perfect. It would give him a chance to talk to Casey about something besides just her money. He would owe her a favor, which he could redeem by taking her out for dinner. It was a win-win. 

But all of that was out the window now, or was about to be. 

“…Your father did,” he finished. Double shit. 

“Of course,” Casey said. “My father.”

“He plays golf with Mark’s dad.”

“I don’t care if they’re in love, ok? I just let a violent criminal out of jail. He could be destroying evidence right now.”

“I didn’t know.” Davis tried to sound as calm as possible. “Please uncuff me. People are starting to stare.”

“Don’t EVER ask me to do anything for you again.” He didn’t think he had ever seen Casey this furious. Not when he’d called her father that first time they met. Not when her then-partner made a drunken pass at her when she was dressed for an undercover vice assignment. Not even that time her mother had tried to set her up with Chase Bennett’s son at the company’s Christmas party for big investors. “You understand me?”

“I’m sorry.”

Casey slammed him into the car harder than she probably needed to and left him standing there, staring after her in shock. He was pretty sure that it wouldn’t matter how many times he said he was sorry. Casey had been right, and now that entitled rich kid blew it for him.

But then, of course, she managed to surprise him again. 

**III.**  
Whenever Casey kissed Davis to distract him – which was surprisingly often – it knocked him completely off-guard. 

He had imagined their first kiss many times over the years, but he never thought it would happen at the precinct. He’d been too stunned to say anything after she announced to her partner that they were “lovers,” and had barely recovered when she’d grabbed him by the tie, kissed him square on the lips, then sent him off. He almost knocked over a flag stumbling out of the precinct. She did it again on their first date, at that weird hole-in-the-wall Mongolian restaurant that she dragged him to. 

Sometimes it would be to stop a conversation she didn’t want to deal with. Or she’d kiss him by way of explanation, usually before running out on one of their dates. For a while it was to cut him off before he said something embarrassing she didn’t want Walsh to know, but that happened less and less as the months went on. 

No matter how often she kissed him in a rush, it always seemed to surprise Davis. Casey Shraeger, ever in motion. His oldest brother told him any time he’d listen (and many times when he wouldn’t) that it meant she wasn’t serious about him, that one day she’d give him a peck on the cheek, run out of the room, and leave him for good. 

But his brother didn’t see the careful ways Casey made up for it later. At the end of the day, when she finally came home, _those_ kisses? They were never rushed. 

**IV.**  
“I think my parents like you more than me.” 

“I thought you don’t care what your parents think.”

“I don’t!” Casey protested.

Davis laughed, his eyes crinkling. He tilted his head and leaned toward her. “I think you do.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “I was just saying.”

“It’s ok to want your parents to love you. There’s nothing wrong with that. ” 

Casey snorted. “Yeah, nothing screams love like questioning every single one of my life choices.”

“Not _every_ single one, right?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about it, Davis.”

“You just said yourself that they like me.”

“Shut up!” She punched him playfully. “I can arrest you, you know.”

“You opened yourself up for that one.” He kissed her lightly on the deep crease above her eyebrows. “They are proud of you, you know.”

“Whatever,” she said, but closed her eyes and leaned in for another forehead kiss. 

**V.**  
Davis never would have pegged Casey as the romantic type, especially not after the way she treated him the first couple of months they were together. The job always came first with her, and she was terrible about actually saying how she felt. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She was never at a loss for some cutting remark when she was angry or annoyed, but she wasn’t exactly free with the rest of her emotions. 

Once they figured out some rules and stopped trying to change each other, though, Davis started to see that he didn’t always have to wait around for her to use her words to understand what she was saying. It was the little things she did here and there that let him know she really did care. 

Like the time he walked into his office to find a white bakery box sitting in the middle of his desk with no note or explanation in sight. He poked his head out to the hallway and spotted an intern, the one who always seemed to be wandering around rather than actually doing any work. “Hey, Bobby,” he called out. 

“Yeah?”

“Was there some sort of delivery to my office earlier today?”

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, a grin spreading across his face. 

“And?” Davis did not have time to play twenty questions with this kid. “Did they say who it was from?”

“Some hot redhead with a badge dropped it off. You should have seen her. Man, I’d–“

“The ‘hot redhead’ is my girlfriend, so I’d stop right there.”

The intern fumbled with the empty coffee cup in his hands. “Yeah. Um. Anyway. That’s all I know.” 

Davis shook his head and let the kid run off down the hallway. Curious now, he went back to his desk and opened the lid of the bakery box to find a half dozen or so small crescent looking cookies. Casey had brought him a box of rugelach? Herself? He had just seen her in person when she was leaving his apartment a few hours ago. He picked up his cell phone and pulled up her number. 

“Shraeger.” 

“Case, it’s me.”

“Hey, you.”

“I got your...” Davis wasn’t sure what to call it. “Delivery. Pastry?”

On the other end of the phone he could hear Walsh mocking Casey in the background. “Is that Daaavis? Hell him I said hiii.”

“Shut up! I swear to god, Walsh.” 

“I don’t mean to interrupt you at work, I just wanted to… thank you? For the pastry. But what’s the occasion? I saw before you left for work this morning.” 

“It’s our anniversary,” Casey whispered into the phone. Her attempts at not being overheard were clearly in vain because Davis could hear Walsh making fake kissy noises in the background. 

“Of what?”

“Of our first date.”

“Our first date wasn’t until–“

“When I ditched you because of that crime slut’s wedding and then showed up at your place later,” she explained.

“With rugelach,” Davis finished. “Casey Shraeger, do my ears deceive me, or you a secret romantic?”

“Yeah, well don’t spread it around or you won’t be getting any more _rugelach_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know you said you'd like something Casey or Jason-centric, but the little Davis in my head just wouldn't shut up about her. Your letter was very vague, so I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
